Week of Mondays
by lone astronomer
Summary: Cameron and House have seven weeks of bad days. Takes place postBad Ideas, Crush, House of Cards and Spin. CH 3 10 July. Sorry about the wait! Problem with cutoff in midsentence fixed 11 July.
1. A Good Run of Bad Luck

A Week of Mondays

Summary: Cameron and House have a series of bad days. Seven weeks of them.

One: A Good Run of Bad Luck

Allison Cameron woke up from her nap at 5:30 PM on Saturday, still less than refreshed, and surprised herself by reaching for her pain medication before she even bothered rolling out of bed. _House is rubbing off on me_, she thought darkly, not bothering to get up and get a glass of water before swallowing a dose. It would have been close to impossible to move without the drugs in her system; her leg had taken a lot of abuse in the past twenty-four hours.

She stared at the ceiling until the drugs kicked in, memories of the previous night coming back to her in snippets: the calm energy of Sting's music resonating through the theatre. Sitting with House in the cafeteria with a cheap pack of cards memorizing the rules and betting strategies of Blackjack. Turning the tables and teaching him to count cards. Doing so well at the Blackjack tables that they decided to move on before the dealers got suspicious. A ridiculous turn of luck. Discovering the shopping boutiques were open all night and going in loaded (in more than one sense) because there was no way she was going to get home that night and there was no way she was sleeping in The Dress.

They'd had fun. She almost wished it had gone badly, but they'd had fun and House had relaxed and been bearable (although the sarcasm factor hadn't diminished), and she'd let all his errant comments slide and…

And she had been so close to giving up. Cameron was, in fact, pretty distressed by how desperately she wanted to give up. She was a realist. She knew the odds were not stacked in her favour, unless you were using a different definition for the word _stacked_. But every time she tried to move on with her life, something stopped her.

Once she'd asked House point-blank if he liked her, knowing that whatever he felt, the answer would still be 'no.' She was sure that if she heard him say it, she'd be able to put her guard back up and walk away. Instead, the next two weeks had impressed clearly upon her that House really _did_ care, at least a little, and she'd found hope unlooked-for lurking behind every corner.

She pushed him. She was purposefully blunt. Hell, she'd quit her _job_ to give herself a chance to get away before it was too late, but even that had backfired on her. Stacy had shown up and Cameron had been pretty sure that House's emotional baggage was going to be all over the office and he was going to be stuck cleaning up the mess rather than following through with their date, but then _that_ had gone remarkably well, too, hangovers aside.

Cameron sighed, heaved herself off of the bed, and limped towards the kitchen in search of some leftovers. She knew there was only so much luck a given person had and she was certain hers was going to run out on Monday.

__

Ben & Jerry's for dinner, then. Triple chocolate fudge was the answer to just about every problem involving House. Maybe she should buy him a tub.

She had just got the first spoonful of sinful goodness into her mouth when the phone rang. She debated whether or not to answer it for a moment- ice cream was currently winning out against any kind of interruption- but then Foreman's number flashed on the call display.

Could be work, she thought with a sigh, reaching over to pick it up. "Hello?" Around a mouthful of ice cream, it sounded like, "Hewwo?"

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to talk with your mouth full?"

She swallowed, wincing as the cold made her head ache. "You and Wilson should form a hospital mommy club." She dug out another chunk of brownie. "What's up?"

"Going out to Faces with a couple of guys from Neurology tonight. You up for it?"

__

Do I want to come out with you and be gawked at by your ridiculously sexist neurologist friends? No thanks. Cameron chewed the brownie slowly. "Why, Foreman? You want to show off the pretty immunologist?" Swallow, scoop out some more fudge. "I think I'll stick to my Ben & Jerry's."

"Got to love a nutritious dinner," he said dryly. "Where were you this morning? Or this afternoon, for that matter? I've been trying to get a hold of you all weekend."

Almost before she could stop herself, she was groaning around a piece of fudge. "Oh, no. You're my Wilson."

"Your what? And you didn't answer my question. Let me guess… it's related to the reason you're having three different kinds of chocolate for dinner."

Damn Foreman. He'd known her weakness for triple chocolate ice cream ever since he'd taken her with him to break into Rebecca Adler's apartment. Cameron said nothing.

"So how was your date?"

Sighing, she set down the ice cream. Apparently Foreman wanted to play girlfriends. She supposed she needed someone to fill the role. "I don't know. It would help if I remembered what happened."

She could almost imagine his taken aback expression. "What, did he drug you or something?"

"Foreman, I know everyone thinks I'm the Red Riding Hood to his Big Bad Wolf, but I promise I keep an axe in my back pocket." Cameron leaned back on the couch and put her feet up on the table. "I got drunk."

She probably should have been angry with him for laughing, but she couldn't blame him. "Well, that explains your reluctance to come out tonight. Do anything stupid?"

"Aside from the drunkenness?" A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. If you couldn't laugh at yourself… "I got lucky."

There was a thud like Foreman had dropped the phone. "What?"

"I won three thousand dollars."

"Jeez. Warn me next time you decide to give me a heart attack, yeah?" He sounded a little too relieved for her to want to give him any more details.

"Sorry." She wasn't, really. Neither did she particularly want to talk about the Date anymore, but she couldn't tell him that, because then he'd understand how much it meant to her and that would cause problems.

"I guess you're not coming out tonight then. Well, keep yourself hydrated. You just got out of the hospital."

Cameron rolled her eyes. "Bye, dad. Don't stay out too late."

/h

To say that House was in a strange mood on Monday morning would have been a gross understatement. He was as sarcastic as ever, but his comments lacked bite. He lost the battle against the space monkeys.

And he went to visit his newest patient, who had just arrived that morning. Wilson was worried. House was used to very low estrogen levels in his personal life, and all of a sudden Cameron _and_ Stacy had got thrown back into that mix.

Maybe that was why Wilson was afraid he was going to crack at any minute.

As usual, he didn't bother knocking before barging into House's office. "Ah, the man of the hour. Shouldn't you be writing your own soap right about now?"

House scowled at him, but didn't stop his cane-twirling. "I couldn't decide what should happen next."

"Well, there's always treating your patient, but I know how you feel about that." He stopped himself before he could go any further, noting House's expression. He was definitely, genuinely upset about something. "Okay, what's going on?"

Another glower, but this one didn't last. "She's driving me crazy." Watching the whirling handle of his cane and not Wilson's face.

Yep. Estrogen problem. "What? Who? Stacy?" A beat. "Or Cameron?"

The end of the cane hit the floor with a solid-sounding _thunk_. "Yeah."

/h

It wasn't just a simple case of jealousy. House was jealous every day, mostly of people who had retained the ability to walk normally.

He didn't like being patronized. Of course, no one was actually actively doing so. Most people he knew had more sense than that after speaking with him for five minutes. The kicker of it was, he was patronizing himself.

House had watched Stacy with her husband that morning, and that had been a mistake. He'd been shocked that he could do it, frankly. He'd had the impression that it should have hurt a lot more than it did. And, okay, it didn't exactly feel great to see how well life had turned out for her, even as much as it sucked that her husband was in the hospital and nobody knew what was wrong with him. Not when House's life was (notably, of late) devoid of that kind of personal attachment.

It was a smack in the face, and what was more, it was a reminder that he was the one keeping himself from that. Well, him and Vogler, since Vogler was really just looking for an excuse to fire him and Cameron was one more way to get to House. Hell, Vogler would probably get them _both_ fired. He'd probably call up Donald Trump to get a recording of his voice _telling House that he and Cameron were fired._

And the problem with this line of reasoning, House realized, was that he hadn't given a second thought to the idea someone had planted that he wanted a relationship with Cameron.

This was all very, very bad.

/h

Tuesday morning, ten o'clock. "Dr. Cameron!"

The blood test results on Mark Wardell should have been ready by now, and Cameron had been on her way from the clinic to the lab to check them out when Cuddy stopped her in the hallway. She had time for a quick prayer directed at the powers that be- _Please don't let it be about House's bad mood, please don't let her know about Friday, please let me just die if it is_- and then she turned around. "Dr. Cuddy."

"I need to see you in my office, if you've got a moment."

Well, that sounded ominous. She put on what she hoped was an innocent face. "Sure."

In her office, Cuddy went right to a stack of what looked like mostly junk mail. "What do you know about the Autumn Immunology Conference?"

__

That's a relief. "That's the one in Chicago, right?" she asked. "I've never been. Why?"

"Early notice," Cuddy answered, smiling and handing her a brochure. "It's in November, so clear your calendar."

"Oh," Cameron said, suddenly feeling a bit thick. _Isn't this kind of assuming Vogler hasn't magically produced a reason to fire me before November?_ "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." She sat down at her desk, rifling through some more paperwork, then looked up. "You can go back to avoiding Dr. House now."

Oh, great. _Two_ bosses to make fun of her. This was just what she needed.

/h

On Thursday, they still hadn't found anything anomalous. Cameron spent endless hours poring over detailed medical records from every clinic, hospital and HMO Mark Wardell had been treated at in the past year. None of them yielded anything rewarding.

"You have a biopsy for those kidney stones?" Foreman asked, flipping pages without reading them.

Cameron gave it a cursory check, but she was pretty sure she already knew the answer. "No, none of them- do you?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Both of mine were done at the… Herz-Werner HMO in Atlantic City. What've you got?"

"Same." She frowned. "Done by different doctors, though."

Foreman nodded. "Yeah. Four different doctors, no biopsy." He looked up. "Interns?"

"What do you want to bet?" Cameron sighed. "I'll contact the clinic, just in case they forgot to include the biopsies, but I have my doubts."

"Looks like House's HMO prejudice is justified."

"Like we didn't know that already."

/h

"So that's where I put that journal." Cameron, sitting in House's chair as she munched distractedly on a mid-afternoon snack of raw vegetables, looked up guiltily, her nose buried in Wilson's latest issue of _Oncology Today_. "The Pandey article on apoptosis?"

She nodded, dropping her eyes back to the page. The painkillers made it possible for her to read again; without them, her head pounded. Unfortunately, they also made her somewhat more irritable than usual. "It's fascinating. The research is so close to a breakthrough, but there's too much red tape to start clinical trials on patients." She popped a carrot into her mouth, chewing and swallowing before she continued. "Anything I can help you with, Dr. Wilson?"

"Yes, actually." He sat down with his back facing the door. She cringed. Uh oh. This was going to be about-

"I need to talk to you about what happened with you and Greg on Friday."

Allison swore mentally in increasing degrees of profanity. She did not want to talk about Friday. She had had enough of talking about Friday. She definitely didn't want to talk about House, she was pretty sure she wasn't ready to start calling him Greg, and in any case she wasn't doing either, because Stacy Wardell had just walked into the office like she owned the place.

"So _you're_ Greg's hot date." From the way Stacy was looking at her, she didn't necessarily agree with the assessment. "I admit, I'm a little surprised. I thought he had a policy about dating employees."

Wilson, facing Cameron, cringed but said nothing. _Coward,_ she thought at him, steeling herself. "The hospital has a policy about dating employees. I'm surprised that you forgot House has a policy about breaking policies." Doing her best to keep from snapping, she took a bite of red pepper and watched as Stacy's eyes narrowed. Cameron swallowed the pepper. "Actually, it's more of a guideline. And you can relax, as if you had a right to be jealous. He owed me dinner." _And a concert and some gambling, a hangover, and, apparently, half of six thousand dollars. Also possibly a Swarovski crystal bracelet and, oh yeah, a shirt that says _I got lucky_. My head hurts._

Stacy looked pretty pissed, and Cameron mentally patted herself on the back. Wilson still looked like he was waiting for the bomb to drop. "Jealous? Of what? Time spent with that bitter shell of a man?"

Cameron shrugged, taking another bite of pepper. "If the shoe fits…" She closed the journal. "Was there something you wanted?"

"An update on my husband's condition would be nice."

"Slight fever, above normal white count, currently moving about freely. But you could have asked him yourself, you know. He's a five minute walk from here."

Cameron opened the journal again as Stacy spun on her heel, clearly irritated. "If you're looking for Dr. House, he's in the clinic," she yelled after her, reaching for the painkillers.

Wilson watched her carefully as she popped two into her mouth. "So you're a liar now?"

"I didn't lie. That's where he is." A glare. Where did Wilson get off calling her a liar? "Whose side are you on, anyway? Nice to know you have my back."

"'He owed me dinner,'" Wilson mimicked. "What, are you ashamed of the truth?"

"That _was_ the truth," Cameron pointed out. "I came back to work. He owed me dinner."

She didn't like the self-satisfied smile that was crossing his lips in the slightest. "Yes, and that's what you got, isn't it? Dinner. No need to mention the concert, a night of gambling and intrigue-"

"This had better have a point, Dr. Wilson."

"So hostile," he said with an infuriatingly knowing look. "You are not a dishonest woman, Dr. Cameron, so I'll tell you what I think is going on here. Option a- you are in a mood. The painkillers are messing with your hormone levels. Option b. There is something you genuinely dislike about Stacy. I find that hard to believe, since you basically like everyone, including Dr. House, and he treats you like crap." Wilson leaned over the desk, eyes sparkling. "Or, option c. You are ashamed of your torrid and illicit affair with the good doctor and want to cover it up."

Cameron narrowed her eyes at him. Since when had everyone turned against her? This was getting ridiculous. She'd thought Wilson was her friend, until Stacy had showed up. Clearly, he had deeper loyalties. "You are so out of line." She reached for her cane, needing to walk off some of her anger.

"Of course, there's always the fourth option." The chair squeaked as Wilson shifted to watch her walk out. She stopped halfway to the door, but didn't turn around.

"There really is no reason for her to be jealous. But you wish there was."

Cameron gripped her cane just a little too tightly as she limped out the door.


	2. Too Many Battles

Week of Mondays

Two: Too Many Battles

Notes: Yeah, so last chapter there should have been no Chase. That scene was written before the planning got put on paper and I realized he was still in Australia. Oops. So, that's edited. Other than that, carry on.

Summary: Nothing like a common enemy to unite your forces.

/h

Cameron pulled into her parking spot outside her apartment, but didn't turn her car off right away. She'd stayed late at work in order to get House's signature to authorize another test to check for kidney stones. The HMO Mark Wardell had gone to had, of course, not kept the previously removed ones for biopsy. It would have been too convenient.

Now it was dark, and the normally short walk between her car and the front door was looking a lot more foreboding than usual. She'd never had a problem with being alone before the accident…. Even in the two weeks afterward she hadn't really thought about it. But now that she was past the shock and denial phase of her injuries she was getting a little paranoid.

She kept her keys in her right hand until she was inside and the door was locked behind her.

Friday, five fifteen in the evening. Sixty-two hours until work took over her life again. The pathetic thing was that all she wanted to do in that time was sleep.

There were plenty of leftovers in the fridge for dinner, so she just popped a plate full into the microwave and sat down in front of her laptop to check her email.

Spam, garbage, an amusing advertisement for a male enhancement drug; nothing much of interest, especially considering Cameron needed the man before the enhancement process could be considered. An update from Chase, whose father was in rough shape but hadn't died yet. A forward from Cuddy gave her all the details of the conference she'd be attending in November.

Other than that, there was nothing of note, so she grabbed a fork from the dishwasher and settled down in front of the TV. Maybe if she turned the volume up loud enough, she'd forget how alone she was.

Outside, dusk settled.

(segue)

"Wilson, you're interrupting _Days of Our Lives_. This had better be good."

He could almost see him rolling his eyes. "Don't worry, it is." He paused for a minute, and House had enough time to realize he was going to need to cringe in about thirty seconds. "House, why are you home by yourself on a Saturday night?"

"We've been over this. I don't like… people." _I don't like Cameron_ inferred too much about Wilson's question, and he didn't want to admit to having thought it.

"You know, that's funny, because I seem to recall that in the past there were actually people you tolerated. One in particular, really. And then one day it all fell to pieces and you've been too chickenshit to care about anyone else ever since!"

A snappy retort crept onto House's tongue, barbed with comments like _You don't know what I went through_ and _Why don't you mind your own fucking business?_ and _How's your wife?_ But Wilson was his friend, and if House was honest with himself, he _did _know what it was like. After two and a half divorces he probably knew better than anyone. So he didn't say anything.

There was a sigh on Wilson's end. "You wanna get a beer?"

"Murphy's?" House suggested, already looking for his keys.

"Twenty minutes?"

"I'll bring the cigars."

(segue)

Wilson sat down heavier than he'd intended, feeling like the worst sort of traitor, and barely resisted the urge to hang his head in his hands. "We have a problem."

"You say that like it's supposed to be some kind of news." Stacy seemed somewhat unaffected, sipping at her water before continuing. "What unforeseen complications have we run into?"

"Neither one of them is taking the bait. And we've been baiting for a week." He massaged his eyes with one hand. "I didn't know it was possible for _two_ people to be that stubborn. I mean I knew we'd have our hands full with House, but…"

She pursed her lips. "He does seem to be rubbing off on his little protégé."

"Which probably annoys him more than he lets on." Wilson sighed. "I think we should back off on Cameron. She was unsure of herself before, but you send her running with her tail between her legs." Although verbally Cameron gave as good as she got- yet another skill she'd picked up from House, no doubt- it was because she was scared, not because she was confident. "Not exactly the effect we're looking for." Really, the effect they were looking for was _House'_s tail between her legs. But that was sort of a crude way to put it.

Suffice it to say that Stacy had been… alarmed… at the sorry state her ex-lover's life was in. Wilson had filled her in with as many details as he felt comfortable giving before she'd arrived, but she was still shocked and, he was fairly sure, feeling more than a little guilty. The whole thing- pushing Greg to get over the past and start thinking about the present- had started out as a joke and somehow evolved into a twisted kind of karma.

Stacy didn't love him anymore. She was married, both happily and worriedly now that her husband was ill, but a part of her couldn't help but blame herself for Greg's lack of trust in people. Wilson could see that, and was frankly willing to take all the help he could get to try to coax House out of his shell.

Which meant using Cameron, because she'd pried him just about as far open as Wilson had in a tenth of the time.

Stacy took a long drag on her cigarette. "What about Greg?"

Wilson sighed. "I don't know." House was looking pretty worn, lately. The night before, at the bar, he'd seemed to be just about at his wit's end. He didn't know how much more he could take. "We want him to crack, not break. Don't push him too hard."

The problem with House was that he had mixed feelings about everything. Patients lied, but they were also lied _to_, and not everything that happened to them was their fault. Wilson knew House recognized tragedy when he saw it; he was human, after all. Chase- well, Chase had betrayed him, but then House might have reacted the same way, once, before bitterness had set in. He was both terrified and attracted to Cameron, which maybe weren't mutually exclusive emotions but they did conflict.

About the only person House didn't have mixed feelings about was himself. If Wilson was honest, and most of the time he lied, just like anyone else, he'd have to admit that House hated himself. He knew he was intelligent, he knew he was a good doctor, but it wasn't enough for him. He didn't find himself worthwhile as a human being. And the problem there was that he thought every good thing he'd had going for him had left with Stacy.

Which was another person House was conflicted about. Yes, he hated her for what she'd done to him. But at the same time, he couldn't help missing her, wanting her, maybe even loving her, because she reminded him that he'd been worth something once.

Wilson reached for the wine bottle. "So how's Mark?"

Stacy put out the cigarette and took the bottle from his hands. "Irritated," she admitted. "He doesn't like the idea of owing my ex a favour, or, you know, possibly his life."

"Well, I meant medically speaking, but, that's certainly understandable." He sighed. "House isn't exactly crazy about the idea, either, you know."

"I had gathered that impression, yes." She sipped her wine, then put the glass down gently and raised her eyes. "Should I leave, James?"

He shook his head. "At this point, I don't think that would help anyone."

(segue)

House was not having a good Monday. Both Wilson _and_ Cameron were avoiding him, Foreman was getting on his nerves, and Stacy wouldn't leave him the hell alone. "I'm trying to think about your dying husband, here," he pointed out, glaring at her from behind the whiteboard.

"You always concentrate better when you're distracted," she said flippantly. "Did those test results get back yet?"

House glanced at the door. "Has Dr. Cameron been here in the last twenty minutes with a big folder full of pretty pictures? No? Oh, but you wouldn't know that, because of course, you haven't been looking over my shoulder for the past twenty minutes."

__

Go away, he begged silently, but she didn't.

"Dr. Cameron?"

House rolled his eyes. _What am I missing here?_ "Yeah, you know. Big blue eyes, dark hair… the pretty one."

Oh, _shit_.

Stacy latched on to that like the vampire she was. "That why you hired her? So you could have the satisfaction of a nice pair of breasts following you around all day?"

He was getting to the end of his rope. Stacy had walked out of his life years ago, and now she was back to ask him a favour and _this_ was the way she treated him? And his staff that had never done anything to her? Where did she get off? "Cameron is a very good doctor and she deserves your respect."

"Yeah, well, gifted doctor or not, she follows you like a little lost puppy," Stacy said, hands on her hips. "How'd she get the limp- you kick her?"

House had a reputation for an explosive temper, but he had a feeling he was going to outdo himself. "What is your problem? Allison Cameron is one of the best at what she does. You have done nothing but give her a hard time since you got here. No, I take it back, you're giving me a hard time, too. Apparently having devoted, brilliant doctors is not good enough for you; you also need your ass kissed and your hand held. If that's what you want, maybe you should take your husband somewhere else." He leaned down to her level and looked her right in the eyes. "Oh, wait. I forgot. Nobody else can figure out what's wrong with him. Tough life, ain't it."

Stacy went hospital-white, eyes round in her face, and House knew he'd been just a little too sensitive on the trigger. "What happened to her?" she asked, sincerely this time, almost a whisper.

He cringed, studying the opposite wall, and let out a breath he hadn't meant to hold. "She got… stabbed in the parking lot," he said quietly. He still hadn't quite come to terms with it, and he doubted that Cameron had, either. "Three knife wounds, lost three units of blood."

"Well. I feel like an ass." He didn't even feel better at the admission. "Did they catch the guy?"

House felt his eyes glazing over as he began realizing the ugly path the chain of events was going to take. "I broke his kneecaps." He wondered when the subpoena would arrive.

As it turned out, it had arrived earlier that day. Cameron left it with the 'important' mail in the bottom drawer of his desk where he kept his GameBoy and portable TV. The note attached to the top said, _Sorry, I know it's a pain. At least now you know why I requested a couple days off of work. - C._

So she was definitely avoiding him. Couldn't even request the time off in person. It was probable that she just didn't want to discuss the trial with him- he was pretty sure she didn't even know how the police had caught the guy who'd stabbed her, and that was fine with him. Their… whatever it was… was strange enough without throwing hero worship into the mix.

Actually their whatever-it-was seemed closer and closer to _nothing_ the longer Cameron avoided him. House could have chased her down… but what then? "You're avoiding me. Please stop." It sounded more than a little pathetic.

Better to wait, he decided. Better to wait until she stopped avoiding him and hope for a return to the status quo.

He hoped she'd stop avoiding him before he forgot what the status quo was.

(segue)

The test results landed on House's desk the next morning- three folders full. Cameron looked up at him over a mug of coffee, eyes ringed with dark circles, and said, "If you want kidney stones… he's got them." She took a sip, winced, and continued, "We ran the scan three times. I stayed until three trying to piece them together- that's why you didn't see these yesterday."

House flipped open the folders and grabbed the top scan from each one, heading over to the light board. "Piece them together?"

Cameron took a light-coloured erasable pen from his desk and made a circle on each image. "They're moving." She capped the pen and handed him another plastic sheet, this one with a graph drawn on it. I've got a computer program that maps out probable trajectories based on given information, so I played around with that a bit. This is what it looks like in two dimensions- they're not going very fast, but it's still weird."

"They're _moving_? Enough to show up on an x-ray?" House looked at the fourth sheet intently. _This is just weird_. He had a bad feeling about this. "Schedule him to have the kidney stones removed. Use your trajectories, but do another x-ray first to make sure you know where they are. And make sure we have something left over to biopsy."

What did kidney stones have to do with paralysis? Or were the two symptoms not related?

House wasn't sure he was going to like the answer.

(segue)

Mark Wardell had just gone in for the minor surgery they'd need to remove the kidney stones when Cameron was intercepted by the third-last person she wanted to see.

"Dr. Cameron." Her blood ran cold at the sound of his voice. What had started out as the first decent day she'd had in a week and a half was ruined.

"Mr. Vogler." She resisted the urge to cross her arms when she turned around. "Back from your business trip, I see." _Please let this be something I can get over with quickly… please don't let him ask me on a date…_

"I'd like a moment of your time, if that's okay with you."

__

I wish you were poor. "Um… sure. Is this about anything in particular?"

He didn't answer her directly, but she was getting definite uh-oh vibes from his response. "My office, please. This shouldn't take too long."

Cameron only had twenty steps to contemplate how badly this could go, so only the possibility that she was fired (again, sort of) managed to cross her mind. She didn't understand why everyone thought _she_ was the key to making House miserable.

The door closed with a gentle click that belied the finality Cameron felt it implied. Vogler went right to his over-priced desk and sat in his over-sized chair and leaned back. He didn't ask her to sit.

"I want to talk to you about Dr. House."

__

I want you to spontaneously combust, Cameron thought, but answered weakly, "Of course." It was next to impossible not to roll her eyes. Her second impulse was to throw something, but she couldn't very well do that, either. "Well, I don't claim to be an expert on the subject."

He gave a sleazy smile. "Oh, I think you underestimate your value."

__

Not at this particular moment, I don't. "Dr. House is my boss. He's grumpy, but he's a brilliant doctor. Anything else?"

Wordlessly, Vogler reached into a drawer and slid a small slip of paper across the table. Cameron fought to keep from blanching.

It was a ticket stub for a Sting concert.

__

Busted.

"I didn't know you were a Sting fan, Dr. Cameron." He picked up the ticket, seeming to examine it closely. Cameron knew that she was what was really being examined. "My business partner enjoys his music and insisted that we schedule our trip in order to be able to catch the concert. Imagine my surprise when he pointed out two doctors of my acquaintance and asked me if I thought they met shopping for canes."

"It was a good concert," she said, fighting the urge to grit her teeth.

"Yes, it was. Tell me, was spending the night with the intriguing Dr. House worth the ensuing lack of professionality and risk to your patients' lives?"

"_What_?" She felt the blood rushing to her face. _How dare he? _"Mr. Vogler, I hope you're not implying-"

He slid another paper across the desk, this one a plain computer printout. "Seems Dr. House got a room for two that night."

Cameron had had enough. "A room for two, that's right," she said shortly. "With _two beds_. House and I went to Atlantic City for a concert and had too much to drink. It was a better option than driving home."

"And you couldn't have rented separate rooms?"

She'd wondered about that more than once herself, but always pushed the thought out of her mind. "I wasn't aware that spying on doctors was part of hospital policy. What I do on my time off has no bearing on my work here, nor does who I spend that time with concern you. If that's all, I have work to do."

She made it as far as the door before Vogler spoke again, the rage in her blood lengthening her stride and forcing her to lean harder on the cane. "The board is meeting next week to discuss the future of the diagnostics department," he said, mock-lightly, in that voice he used when he knew he had you just where he wanted you. "I expect to see you there."

Cameron let the door slam behind her.

(segue)

It was an instinct for self-preservation that made House raise his head when she entered instead of just ignoring it and waiting for her to speak. The air was fraught with nervous tension or plain anger or even fear, he didn't know which. He looked at Foreman and Stacy, then glanced at Cameron again.

Before he could say anything, she'd planted her cane and opened her mouth. "Alright, anyone who didn't get hammered in Atlantic City two weeks ago, leave."

Foreman raised an eyebrow, but left without a word. Stacy seemed likely to object- yes, she was already putting on her 'indignant' face- so he said, "You going to keep the lady waiting?"

She turned with a scathing look and probably would have slammed the door behind her, if it were possible.

"Dr. Cameron. What's got your panties in a twist?"

"In a word?" Tap-tap of wood on the floor. "Vogler."

His mind rebelled at the imagery. "Well, I can't say that's the reaction I expected."

"Vogler was at the concert at the Tropicana. He apparently did some investigating about accommodations while he was there."

House let himself soak up the information for a minute before speaking. "The corporate billionaire admits to extortion and spying?"

She frowned. "No, although that's probably a fair assumption. He had to get the printout of the room reservation somehow."

"And because he's an ass, he naturally has inferred the worst." _Or, in other words, assumed I'm both stupider and luckier than I am._

"It gets better." Most of the hostility faded from her posture as she slumped onto the couch. "Bet you can't guess how."

He step-thumped his way over to sit beside her. "Could he possibly be threatening to bring this up at the board meeting next week at which point he will undoubtedly try to get me fired?"

Cameron's head fell back against the cushion. "You don't sound nearly worried enough. He has… asked me nicely… to attend."

"Do you think he realizes it's a vote and not a trial?" House mused, wondering why he felt vaguely betrayed. "Besides, I've got Wilson and Cuddy. I'm not going anywhere."

"And how many people do you think Vogler is willing to go through before he gets to you?" she asked tiredly. "Because any number I can think of is a conservative estimate."

No, House wasn't stupid. He'd known that for a long time. That didn't mean he knew what to do with the information. And none of it took the sting out of Cameron's point. "You think I should resign?"

"No." She sounded tired. Looked it, too. "I don't know what you should do."

He sighed. "Me neither."

(segue)

This time it was Foreman with the images and Cameron with lab results. "You're not going to believe this," Foreman started.

Cameron shook her head. "This, either."

House put the full body scans up on the light-board. "Those look like fun," he said darkly, referring to the multitude of grayish lumps in Mark Wardell's body. One pushing up against his spine, two left in his kidneys, one at the base of a lung.

The edges around them were faintly blurred on one side. "These ones moving, too?"

"We think so," Foreman answered.

"Cameron… do you think your computer can handle another couple of trajectories?"

"What _are_ those?" Foreman moved closer to the board, squinting.

Cameron handed House the biopsy analysis. "Tumours," she said flatly, watching the image as if she expected the gray areas to writhe on their own. "It's cancer."


	3. Eavesdropping

Week of Mondays

Three:

Stacy pushes too hard and House asplodes all over the place. ("She lives under the delusion that she can fix everything that isn't perfect. She went as far as marrying a man who was dying of cancer. She doesn't love, she needs. And now that her husband is dead, she's looking for a new charity case. That's why she went out with me. I'm twice her age, I'm not great looking, I'm not charming; I'm not even nice. What I am, is what she needs. I'm damaged." (Cameron overhears) "You're old enough to be her father." "You think I don't know that?")

Cameron talks to Cuddy, Wilson

The board meeting begins. End with Wilson and Cameron outside the board room.

The three of them stared at the light board for a few minutes before Foreman finally broke the silence. "What kind of cancer involves moving tumours?"

Cameron shrugged. "Don't look at me. I just did the lab work."

House rubbed his forehead and sighed. "Go talk to Dr. Wilson." He looked at Cameron. "I'll talk to Stacy. Foreman, you do the research."

Rolling his eyes, he demanded, "On?"

House handed him Mark's file. "The doctors who did his procedures. Not that I expect the information to be easily accessible, but I'm sure you'll find a way to get it. Chat up the receptionist, bribe the girl who does paycheck… The possibilities are endless." He popped a Vicodin, then glared when nobody moved. "Now would be a good time to start."

"It's cancer," Cameron told him, and the dark circles under her eyes seemed to deepen with the statement. "Really weird moving, floating cancerous tumours pressing against his spine and his lungs, causing paralysis and fainting spells." She handed him the charts and sat in his chair without asking him, without even looking up. She put her head in her hands. "Please tell me you can help him."

Wilson felt like Cameron looked: physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted. There was a lot of misery in the air at PPTH and it was contagious; Greg was miserable, Cameron was sullen and Stacy exuded a kind of nervous anxiety. This was just the straw that was in danger of breaking the camel's back. "The tumours are doing _what_?"

Sighing, Cameron leaned her head all the way down to the desk. "That's what I was afraid of." Her hand went into her pocket and Wilson watched her take out a pill. "You have any water in here?"

In the past three weeks, he'd watched her consumption of the painkillers almost double. Not a good sign, he decided, especially since she barely seemed to need her cane anymore. He fished a bottle of water out from behind his filing cabinet anyway. "Drugs aren't the answer, you know."

"You're right. Alcohol is better. Takes longer to kill you." She swallowed the pill.

"That really depends on how fast and how much you take." Wilson deliberated for a moment before sitting on the desk. "You think this is helping any? You're not the only one who's confused and frustrated here. Self-pity just takes you down to his level."

Cameron raised her head slowly, then an eyebrow. "When you look like someone played tic-tac-toe on your body, you can tell me not to reconsider the way I live my life." She rubbed her eyes. "The confusion and frustration are gone, Wilson. I'm giving up. It's not worth it. Life's too short to pine indefinitely. Time to move on."

Wilson didn't even have time for his surprise to register before she changed the subject. "Got any bright ideas on how we can treat this guy?"

He exhaled slowly and let his questions slide for the moment. He could deal with issues not related to life and death later. "I could look up some clinical trials." Glancing at the folder she'd brought with her, he contemplated what they could do. "We could try House's ethanol trick to temporarily shrink the tumours and make them easier to remove…"

Sighing, Cameron shook her head. "We'd never find a surgeon to do it. Besides, as long as the tumours are this active, surgery that close to the spine is risky. We may not even be able to find it without too much poking around. I can predict roughly where it's going to be, but…" She shrugged.

"There's always chemo," Wilson started, but stopped himself almost before the sentence could complete itself. "But on a completely unknown type of cancer, there's no telling how that would work."

Cameron leaned back in the chair, staring at nothing. After a brief moment, she said, "What about that new treatment I read about in your magazine? I know it's not even ready for clinical trials yet because of the red tape, but it makes sense to develop a new treatment when a new type of cancer shows up."

He'd been considering something along the same lines, but wasn't really sure how to go about getting around the issues surrounding the experimental therapy. "I can look into it. There may be problems getting authorization for cross-border shipment, though. Pandey's based in Windsor, right?"

She nodded. "Good luck."

"It's cancer," House said as gently as he could. He wasn't renowned for his bedside manner or any particular inclination towards unnecessary niceties, but if you couldn't be sympathetic to the woman you'd loved for years (even if said woman was the cause for much bitterness and self-loathing on your part), well…

But Stacy wasn't looking surprised. House felt the faint stirrings of suspicion. "In his kidneys. Yes, we know. But it doesn't explain the other symptoms."

Well, it was good to know that his lack of faith in humanity was justified. "You knew he had cancer and you didn't _tell_ me? What, did you think it was not medically relevant? Your husband is _dying_ and you're not going to tell his doctors? That's cold, Stacy. You probably know I could sue you for this."

"You won't," she answered. "Listen, I should have told you, but if I had, you never would have accepted the case or even thought it was interesting. We had those tumours removed under the pretense that they were kidney stones and his symptoms persisted. They don't have anything to do with it."

House rolled his eyes. "Of course they don't. Or they wouldn't, if the cancer was limited to his kidneys." He handed her a photocopy of the scans that showed the other two tumours. "The one that's pressing on his spine is the big problem, of course. That's causing paralysis. The one pushing on his lung is causing dizziness and fainting spells."

Stacy had the decency to look stunned for a minute before voicing her next question. "But the paralysis isn't a consistent symptom. Neither are the fainting spells."

This, House decided, was probably going to be the more delicate conversation he'd anticipated after all. "Because the tumours are moving. It's a new strain. We haven't seen anything like it before."

"A new strain," she repeated vaguely, seemingly lost. House felt an uncharacteristic stab of sympathy, which the righteous anger at her deception quashed. "That means no treatment, doesn't it."

He wasn't going to lie to make her feel better. "Conventional methods will probably be useless. Wilson's looking into some clinical trials." He let the news sink in for a minute, debating the _I'm sorry _that wanted to escape him. In the end he decided against it. It might have been true… but he wasn't sure she deserved to hear it.

Cuddy found who she was looking for in the diagnostics waiting room, head in her hands, looking more than a little lost. She'd heard about the cancer diagnosis- word traveled fast in the hospital- so she couldn't say she was surprised to find Stacy about ready to start tearing out her own hair.

She'd looked much the same five years ago, when House had refused the recommended treatment. "You know Dr. Wilson is the best at what he does." Not that that was very comforting, but at this point she suspected very little would be.

"I wasn't… surprised about the cancer."

Interesting. Cuddy had a feeling that maybe she was in for more than she bargained for. "You know what… I won't ask. I don't want, or need, to know." She sat down across from the lawyer. "What's going on?"

Stacy raised her head a few inches, enough for Cuddy to get the idea that she had just rolled her eyes. "You're telling me you can't guess?"

"If House is giving you trouble…"

"No, no, it's nothing like that." A pause. "Okay, so it's actually the opposite. I'm giving him trouble, or I have been. I can't even really say why. I know I'm driving him crazy, I feel guilty about it, but I can't stop myself."

Privately, Cuddy thought House could use a taste of his own medicine every once in a while, but she wasn't going to say that out loud. House's misery was contagious and the last thing she needed was doctors that were more misanthropic and bitter than usual. "I'll start to worry if House just stands there and takes it." She reconsidered her motives for a moment. If House and Stacy weren't getting along it might be a bad idea to go through with the business proposal she had to make. On the other hand, forcing them both to get over it would probably only do them good in the long run. Plus, the hospital really needed another lawyer…

"It's good for him," she found herself saying, and then wished she hadn't. Stacy was frowning up at her. "Look, you know what happened to him after you left. He let himself get bitter and because he hasn't seen you since, he hasn't had any closure." And now for the big finish. "You've moved on, and the more he sees that, the more he's going to kick himself in the ass until he's over you."

"You need a lawyer, don't you."

Cuddy smoothed the wrinkles she could feel forming on her forehead with the fingers of one hand. "Pretty desperately. Are you available?"

There was a long pause, and Cuddy considered for the first time that Stacy might say no. "I could use the distraction," she said at last, and Cuddy handed her the paperwork.

Gregory House was a very perceptive man (often less so when it came to women), and that didn't only apply to matters outside himself. He was perceptive enough to identify nostalgia when he felt it, and he was feeling it now, standing on the wrong side of a glass wall peering in as a woman comforted her husband.

Greg House was a perceptive man, and he could separate the personal from the situational. He missed Stacy, inasmuch as any man as bitter as he was could miss being trusting enough to allow someone to share his life with him. Stacy herself was history, not like he needed to be reminded.

The trouble was, he couldn't remember if it was himself or someone else he was supposed to be trusting.

"Greg, I need to talk to you."

Great; just what he needed. "No, you don't," he said, turning away from her husband's room. "Wilson's his physician now. If anyone can pull off a miracle with clinical trials, it's Wilson."

He could sense her steeling herself, and just that made his hackles rise. Something was going on, and he probably wasn't going to like it.

"It's not about medicine."

He _definitely_ wasn't going to like it. She took a deep breath as he turned around. "Greg, I'm going to be around for the rest of Mark's treatment..."

"The rest of his treatment, the rest of his life," House said, watching as she flinched. It was action and reaction; it was only instinct to hurt her now, after all the pain she'd caused him. "What's the point?"

Stacy's lips thinned; she crossed her arms. "Cuddy offered me a job. I took it."

_This is payback for antagonizing every lawyer Cuddy's ever hired_. "Oh well," he said as cheerfully as he could manage. "At least you'll be out of my hair."

"That's right, you can go back to focusing your full attention on your med student. I think she's getting jealous."

House was very tempted to point out that Cameron was twenty-seven years old and not a child anymore, but he knew it would probably get him into more trouble than it was worth. "Cameron doesn't have a jealous bone in her body," he said instead. He was tired of this conversation, and Stacy couldn't seem to get the hint that _he didn't want to talk about it_.

"I'm sure she's the epitome of a good Christian wife."

He grit his teeth. "Cooks, cleans, does laundry, loves the missionary position; what can I say, she's perfect. Except for the whole atheist thing."

When he tried to walk away, she grabbed his cane. "I'm not stupid, Greg. Or blind. For some reason beyond my imagination, she likes you. And this conversation wouldn't bother you if there weren't some truth to it. If you'd stop living in the past for five minutes you might actually find that there are things in this life that are worth making an effort for."

Yeah. Except that what she had said wasn't entirely true. "I think you seriously overestimate your observational capabilities."

Stacy crossed her arms. "Oh really."

"You don't even know her," he pointed out. This conversation was headed for an uncomfortable place.

"Call it woman's intuition, then. Okay, so you're older, you're bitter, maybe you're not every woman's ideal man. Haven't you been paying attention when she looks at you? She looks like she wants to rip her heart out of her chest and hand it to you on a silver platter!"

House wasn't sure what kind of sick game this was, but he'd had enough of it. Time to end this, once and for all. He knew he had trust issues- with himself and with others, certainly with Stacy, but he was just starting to realize how badly he wanted to trust again. When he started speaking, he was almost unaware of what he was saying- only that it hurt that it was true.

"Dr. Cameron lives under the delusion that she can fix everything that isn't perfect." Unconsciously, he glanced into Stacy's husband's room, seeing not the man who lay there now but himself in a similar position six years ago. "She went as far as marrying a man who was dying of cancer. People don't do that for love, they do it because they _need_." In that respect maybe they were perfect for each other; two broken souls who weren't really capable of having a healthy relationship. "Now that her husband is dead, she's looking for a new charity case. That's why she went out with me. I'm twice her age, I'm not great looking, I'm not charming; I'm not even nice." His hands curled at his sides as he finished the thought out loud. He felt vaguely nauseous, clutching his cane tightly for support. "What I am, is what she needs. I'm damaged."

He let the words hang in the air for a moment before he glanced at Stacy again, who seemed willing to look anywhere but at him. "Thanks for the pep talk," he said sharply, and took off in the direction of the clinic.

Overhearing was the last thing Cameron had intended to do; she was just supposed to hand House the information on the clinical trial Wilson had finagled out of Dr. Pandey. Even though House wasn't technically Mark's doctor anymore, they both knew he'd want to be kept up to date on this one.

"She looks like she wants to rip her heart out of her chest and hand it to you on a silver platter."

Cameron felt said organ rise into her throat when she heard Stacy's voice. Honestly, hadn't she caused enough trouble? Couldn't she leave well enough alone?

She felt sick when House started to answer and tried to turn back down the hallway, but her cane wouldn't unstick from the floor and she didn't trust her leg yet to hold her up. "Dr. Cameron lives under the delusion that she can fix everything that isn't perfect. She went as far as marrying a man who was dying of cancer. People don't do that for love, they do it because they _need. _Now that her husband is dead, she's looking for a new charity case. That's why she went out with me. I'm twice her age, I'm not great looking, I'm not charming; I'm not even nice. What I am, is what she needs. I'm damaged." He paused, and Cameron felt her stomach churning, its contents desperate to find an outlet. She knew she was going to be sick. With a Herculean effort, she made herself move, taking off to the nearest restroom before she could hear anything else.

Cameron had learned a long time ago that when the shit hit the fan, it tended to make a mess of everything all at once. You could spray down everything with a power washer, you could disinfect and scrub all you liked, but weeks later you'd still be picking shit out of your ears.

So she was angry with herself for not having expected this. She'd heard the hospital lawyer had taken a leave of absence, but her brain hadn't put two and two together and deduced that Cuddy would ask Stacy to step in to fill the void. She supposed it was better than having her hanging around Diagnostics all day; at least this way she'd have something to keep her busy and out of House's hair.

She was angry with herself for pushing House into a date he clearly hadn't wanted, in retrospect. He'd probably only had fun because it was something he'd have done on his own anyway. Besides, they'd won six thousand dollars. Any evidence she might have gleaned that he could actually have feelings for her was clearly circumstantial.

But most of all she was angry with herself for failing to realize the depth of House's self-loathing, and that it coloured his perceptions about everyone he met, herself included. He didn't trust anyone, especially women; she wasn't quite sure why that was yet, but she suspected it might have something to do with the infarction. Stranger and more frightening was the fact that he didn't seem to believe he was worthy of anyone's affection; the idea made her heart constrict painfully.

_I'm twice her age, I'm not particularly handsome; I'm not even nice._

From the safety of the rooftop, she thought about it. She was fairly sure she wasn't looking for a 'charity case'- she was even fairly sure that _House _knew she wasn't looking for a charity case. The man had more defense mechanisms than the Pentagon, and she was starting to doubt that she'd ever get through them.

_Another week_, she conceded to herself. She'd told Wilson that she'd given up on him, and she'd meant it then, but how could she abandon hope for someone who'd already given up on himself?

"Sorry I'm late," Edward Vogler practically thundered as he closed the door to the room behind him. Cameron barely resisted the urge to shudder. Something about the man repulsed her. "I trust you all know why we're here.

Cameron had a pretty good idea: Vogler's longstanding vendetta against House, or vice versa. The feud had been going ever since Vogler had donated that money to the hospital, and she had a feeling that it would continue until House either gave in (unlikely) or one of them was gone for good.

Based on personal experience, Cameron's money was on House. She didn't think she'd ever met someone as stubborn as he was. Then again… Vogler did have a lot of power. Too much power.

"I think I can take a wild guess," Wilson said dryly, tossing the pen he'd been twirling on the table. He looked tired; Cameron couldn't help but feel for him.

"For those of you who are in the dark," Vogler continued, silencing Wilson with a menacing look (to which Wilson failed to react), "this meeting has been called to discuss the impropriety of the actions of Dr. Gregory House, head of the Diagnostics Department."

At the far end of the table, Cuddy rubbed her forehead. From her spot standing rather awkwardly behind Vogler- a position she disliked both for the view and the implication that she was somehow supporting him- Cameron could just see the tension creeping into the older woman's posture. With Vogler and Stacy around to set House on edge, it was a small wonder the whole hospital hadn't spontaneously combusted.

"We all know House is a misanthrope," Cuddy said with a roll of her eyes. "He also just happens to be the best at what he does."

"He's shown a blatant disregard for protocol, hospital policy and authority. He violated a DNR, goads patients into accepting treatment they don't want, terrorizes the interns, and spends most of his day watching soap operas! The man is a disgrace to this hospital and to the entire medical profession, and I want him gone."

"He also saves the majority of his patients- patients that multiple other doctors have given up on." That was Wilson, loyal to a fault. Cameron tried not to hold her breath waiting for a reaction.

Vogler slammed two massive fists down on the table, reminding her of an overgrown toddler throwing a tantrum. "I am not challenging the man's brilliance, I am questioning his personal code of ethics." The fists unclenched. Something about the change in his tone made Cameron's stomach twist. "Recently when I was away at a business conference in Atlantic City I witnessed this perversion firsthand."

_Here it comes,_ she thought resignedly as Vogler began passing out copies of some document or another. "Dr. House was in Atlantic City that same weekend, apparently staying at the Tropicana Hotel with a companion."

A doctor Cameron didn't know spoke up. "You're not going to suggest we vote to revoke his tenure because he hired a hooker, are you? Anyway, isn't this information confidential?" He flipped through the two page printout from the hotel. "I was under the impression that hotels didn't release the list of guests staying overnight."

"How I obtained this information at this point is irrelevant. The fact of the matter is that Gregory House spent the night with a doctor under his direct authority, which is a violation of this hospital's policy."

Cameron flinched as all eyes turned towards her. Dr. Cuddy was the first of the board members to recover. "Dr. Cameron, is this true?"

She got the feeling that under other circumstances, Cuddy would be amused if not thrilled. "Dr. House and I attended a concert together and had too much to drink afterwards. We did the responsible thing and got a hotel room for the night. If you look at that invoice, you will see that the room had separate beds."

"I'm sure I don't need to point out that just because you had separate beds, that doesn't mean you took advantage of that."

"Mr. Vogler, we appreciate your concern, but more evidence is needed if you expect us to terminate Dr. House's employment. Your claims as to the propriety or lack thereof of his activities outside of work are uncorroborated. Besides, the Tropicana is an expensive hotel. One room is much more cost effective than two."

The ugly vein in his forehead was throbbing. "I would be willing to allay my suspicions if I hadn't heard Dr. Wilson ask what House was going to do with the money he won gambling. I'm guessing cost wasn't really an object."

She bit down on the retort that was trying to fight its way past her teeth. "We are professional people. We are capable of sharing a room for a few hours without anything untoward happening."

"Capable, yes. Are you saying that you aren't attracted to Dr. House?"

Cameron had had just about enough of thinly veiled insults. "Mr. Vogler, you've made it clear that you believe I have an improper relationship with Dr. House. My efforts to convey the truth of the situation have been dismissed and ignored. If money and a grudge trump truth in this hospital, I'm sure I'll be just as happy to look for another job. Rather than stand here and be insulted, I will wait outside for you to decide on a course of action."

She was aware of all eyes on her as she left the room, knew more than one of those stares was a disapproving one. It was more than likely that her little tirade would be looked upon as somewhat immature. Right at that moment, Cameron couldn't have cared less. She was tired of the elevated stress levels, tired of having to protect herself and her colleagues from Vogler's tyranny, tired of insinuations that she wasn't sure she even wanted to be able to deny.

God, this was messed up. She leaned against the wall and let her body slide slowly to the floor, her almost superfluous cane clattering down beside her. She thought about reaching for her pain medication, but decided the dull throb was probably a better distraction from her thoughts than counting the ceiling tiles. She had just come to the conclusion that she really needed to look into getting a Gameboy when the door opened beside her.

It was Wilson. Her lip curled sardonically. "Sending the altar boy to sacrifice the lamb. Very poetic."

Wilson budged up against her, shoving her over a bit. "I voted for you." He shrugged. "I voted for House, too. That's when they threw me out."

Cameron closed her eyes, wondering if that offer from the hospital in Boston was still valid. "You going to resign?"

She felt him shrug again. "Can't think of anything else to do."

"Maybe we should get a lawyer."

The words were out of her mouth before she fully realized what she'd said. Wilson gave a slight start and looked over, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Now there's an idea."


End file.
